Suture
by Melodic Flow
Summary: The duration of Sasuke's stay in Sound was filled with stains. On walls, when the sharp-edged projectiles were a little too fast for him, and on bedsheets, with the thrum of arousal singing in his veins. Sasuke/Naruto.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: New story! This is mainly to get myself back to writing, and also I wanted to try my hand at Sasuke Naruto slash. Nothing heavy or sexual for now, but the story would be a bit dark, since the theme matches Sasuke and all. Yeah. I hope no one will be disturbed, because this story might venture into those graphic and a tiny bit gory scenes, but who knows. Anyway..**

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><p><strong>Suture<strong>

_noun_

1. a stitch or row of stitches holding together the edges of a wound or surgical incision.

2. a seamlike immovable junction between two bones, such as those of the skull.

_verb_

up (a wound or incision) with a suture.

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><p>Prologue<p>

**day two.**

Kabuto left approximately two minutes and thirty seconds ago. The jars he was working with previously remained open, their lids purposely left on another table. One jar in particular caught Sasuke's attention, the content of which was a single red eye. He wondered for a moment if it was a bastardization of his Sharingan, the beginnings of rage stirring in his gut, before dismissing the notion. It wasn't of immediate concern. Orochimaru wouldn't have needed him if the eye was any close to perfection. And in the off chance that it was - well, he would crush it. The same way he would crush Itachi-s eyes, the right one first, and then the other. His limbs would go next - piece by piece, and Sasuke would use his brother's hands to wring his own neck in a mimicryof suicide, until he would choke on his spit and blood and Sasuke would kill him, again and again and_ again_.

He would - as soon as the curse mark stopped hurting like a motherfucking sonofabitch.

Sasuke closed his eyes. Breathed in. Out.

_"Why Sasuke? Why?"_

In.

_"Why?"_

Out.

His head was still throbbing, like there was a ball of sphere lodged inside, rhythmically expanding then retracting to itself. He was propped up against a reclined white bed, bandages covering a large portion of his body. He could barely move his arms or arch his back, lest he wanted the damage to worsen significantly. So maybe he had overstepped the usage limit of chidori - there was a curious sensation of needles prickling his muscles en masse. It could have been worse though.

_"Even if I have to break your arms and legs_ - "

Despite the bludgeoned-like pain, it was worth it.

_"I'm going to stop you."_

The room was tinged green by the low hanging lights, with shadows cast along the corners and edges of everything. His bed was placed against the left corner of the room, with the wooden door directly opposite it. On the other side were two long white tables filled with Kabuto's contraptions, among which was a collection of varying scalpels, surgical probes and pointed forceps assembled on a leather compartment. There were no closets or other appliances in the room, and for the most part it was bare. And clean. It smelled strongly of antiseptic and blood and - something else.

Sasuke belatedly realized the lack of drinkable water nearby, at around the same time his throat began to itch.

Kabuto sucked at being a medic-nin.

The lack of windows made the air stifling. He felt hot and humid - like the sun had dried against the walls. It was getting harder to breathe.

_"You - you're serious about... killing me."_

Lying there, Sasuke forced the voice in his head to stop screaming, but it dragged on and continued to do so, even long after he fell asleep.

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**REVIEWS ARE GOLDEN! PLEASE REVIEW SO I CAN IMPROVE AND KNOW HOW TO GO FORTH WITH THIS STORY! LOVE LOTS**


	2. Chapter 2

_And when you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you._

_- Friedrich Nietzsche_

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><p><strong>day three<strong>

Sasuke woke with the image of rain-soaked cheeks resonating in his mind.

He still couldn't move much, although his body felt a little better. The thin mattress didn't help, neither did the solitary feeling brought about by the confined, unfamiliar room. But he was used to sharing his company with himself - it was just a bit... different. Foreign. Just a little though, because it didn't make any sort of a difference.

It shouldn't.

He was about to stand and wash himself up in the bathroom next door, but the sticky sensation on his legs of something not altogether solid stilled his movements, and he ended up in an awkward position by the edge of the bed.

It was...

Huh.

And he thought he was immune to such mundanity.

With implacable calmness he fingered the substance, unconciously draping it all over his hand. Well, he made quite a mess - not to mention the smell, like that of chlorine and bleach. He wondered for a moment who would be unfortunate enough to clean it, or if Orochimaru would just task the person to throw away the sheets... probably the mattress too.

This certainly wasn't his first - although it was the first time it had seemed so... intense. As if there was something more to it than a simple, carnal urge.

But it didn't matter (not this, not his home back in the Leaf, not the Uchiha-embroidered clothes he forgot to bring, and certainly not his team).

It shouldn't.

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to be continued


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